Undisclosed Desires - a collection of Coliver ficlets
by pi-on-a-skateboard
Summary: A collection of ficlets about our lovely Connor Walsh and Oliver Hampton. Latest: Meet the Hamptons - Connor's wreck of a family means he's pretty damn scared of meeting Oliver's. Can he pull it together for Oliver - or will it all be a huge mess?
1. Imagine

It's the tiniest of things that reinforce to Connor he's made the right decision.

It's the extra light in Oliver's smile, the way he can see rays of happiness beaming from him and rushing through the room, like water over the falls, full of joy and life and energy. How he doesn't even need to be in the room with you to warm you up… but his hand will reach out anyway, and his fingers will lock in to Connor's, and he can feel every inch of him locking in, like a teeth in a zipper or two opposite poles of a magnet. It's all so _right_ and just holding hands he finds he doesn't care about questions because the answer will always be Oliver.

It's the tiny frown he gets on his face when he's coding… when Connor sits beside him and hands him a mug of coffee and pushes up his glasses for him because he's concentrating so _damn hard_ on his tests and checking his code translations and writing, and his eyebrows just slide together until he puts his head in his hands and Connor kisses every finger and tickles him and sings with him until he's had enough of a break to recharge and goes back to blocking the world.

It's the way how when Connor's sick he sits beside him and sings until he falls asleep, then makes tea and cooks all these old recipes from his home and his childhood, and Connor feels so safe in his arms, warm and welcome, like just the brush of fingertips against his forehead can calm a fever a degree. And it's also the way how whenever Oliver gets sick he sits all miserable in bed and won't let Connor come near him because he has to protect him from everything.

It's the patience exuding from him no matter what the circumstance. It's watching him smile and talk to his nephews and teach them how to tie their shoes. It's knowing after a terrible day of work where he's had to cancel their dinner plans for the fifth time, that Oliver will still be there waiting for him with home-cooked dinner and dessert left out on the bench.

It's his muscles just tightening around him like a glove, a blanket, and the way his hand just fits into the angles of his hips and his jaw settles over Connor's shoulder, the fact he can _let_ Oliver sit there without squirming.

It's everything, absolutely everything. And that's how he knows.

They're on vacation in New York, strolling along Central Park like some old romantic film that you watch in black and white while counting the days til Christmas. Oliver has his hand in Connor's and they match each other with every step, smiling at babies in prams and laughing at the dogs out on walks. They climb to the top of the Belvedere Castle and Connor leans back against the bricks, pulling Oliver in for a kiss.

They descend and keep wandering through the park, taking in the scenery and laughing and whispering in each other's ear. Connor grows more and more nervous… but he never gives off anything, just keeps steering them towards the west side of the park. He's got this planned down to a T – the exact spot where he'll kneel, how he'll pull out the ring and give a speech he's been sitting on for months now, and he'll stand up and smile and the crowd will cheer _for_ them, not against them, because he's on top of the world just thinking about it and _nothing_ can get him down.

* * *

><p>Of course, they've only just entered Strawberry Fields when he begins to fidget with the blue velvet box in his pocket. And, even worse, it's there that a squirrel darts out of a tree in front of them and Connor jumps… causing him to fumble and promptly drop the box.<p>

It doesn't go unnoticed by Oliver, who breathes in as he jumps to pick it up, "Is that…"

_Shit. Even this I screw up._ Connor shakes his head, pulling Oliver closer to the mosaic. "No. This needs to be perfect." They finally get to the centre, stopping on either side of the bold **IMAGINE**, and Connor holds the box in his left hand, his right gripping onto Oliver's. "Oliver, I don't… When I first met you, I couldn't begin to consider the idea of a boyfriend. But you changed that – you changed me – and now my imagination is taking me so much further, past boyfriends, past civil partnerships, past long-term relationships…"

"You can't be serious…"

He looks down at the ground, letting the word trigger his speech. "With you, I don't need to imagine there being no heaven – because with you I'm already in it. There's no heaven above us, no hell below us, because we're living this together and when I'm with you… it's only us. When I'm with you, I finally begin to understand peace – not that you calm the world, but you calm me, and that's all that anyone can ask for. With you I would share all my possessions… but with you I need none. I would go hungry and starve. I would give up my world, my career, my life, only to make you happy. You're the dreamer in this relationship, and you always have been, but that doesn't mean I can't dream too," he drops down on one knee, "and all I ever dream about is waking up with you beside me for the rest of eternity. So Oliver Hampton," he finally glances up and sees a few tears streaming down Oliver's cheek, a smile bigger than the city, "will you marry me?"

Oliver can only nod, and Connor slides the band over his finger before pulling his _fiancée_ into his arms, lips pressed to his like kissing was the only way he could get oxygen. He lives and breathes Oliver. And they're still kissing to the roar of the crowd and tears stream down Connor's face too – because no matter how many times and how badly he'd screwed up in the past, none of it mattered. It's them and only them, forever as one, floating away on the clouds of the heavens above.

* * *

><p><strong>Well hello there!<strong>

**So this was another Tumblr prompt - they wanted a marriage proposal... and I was thinking about Connor being afraid of squirrels (it just sort of popped out) and so that led to the first time I ever saw a squirrel, which was in Central Park, and they're in PA so why the hell can't they just head to Manhattan for a vacation? And then looking up romantic places spurred this... because Connor has to control everything, perfect everything :-)**

**Like it? Hate it? Want me to be internalised by marshmallows and cooked and made into a s'more? Please let me know!**

**Keep smiling! :D**


	2. Testing Gravity

_Oliver _had_ to be the most accident-prone person Connor had ever come across. He didn't understand how someone who could type 100 words a minute – or play flawless Liszt – could be so clumsy with any other aspect of his body._

_It made no sense. In another life, he could have been a watchmaker or a neurosurgeon, he could control his hands so well. Then again, in another life, he may well have been a cat and his human body just hadn't readjusted to the whole no-nine-lives thing._

_It was ridiculous. Even the simplest of tasks came with their own set of danger. Like the first time they slept together._

Connor knew that Oliver was good with his hands. There was something in the way he carried them, the length of the fingers, how they knew exactly where to bend and how much force was needed, and his hands were so still… Suffice to say, that first night proved him so right.

It was incredible. Absolutely mind-blowing. He was learning places he didn't realise _had_ nerve endings…

He shifted position, suddenly wanting to bring attention back to Oliver. He couldn't have _all_ the fun, after all. He moved down, Oliver moved up, and he flipped him around so that his back was facing him.

At least… that's what he intended to do. But somehow in the process of being flipped, Oliver had landed on the floor with a dull thud.

Connor burst into laughter. "You are such a _dork!_"

But he rolled off and under the bed anyway, grinding up against him in the darkness.

_And then there was the time that Oliver came over to his place to cook. By that stage he'd sort of become used to the clumsiness – not to the extent that he knew when to grab on, when to duct tape the edges of furniture, but at least to the point of not being surprised._

Connor had been drawing up an outline in his study when all of a sudden came,

"Ah, shit."

Oliver's face materialised around the corner of his bedroom, a finger stuck in his mouth. Connor didn't even bother asking what had happened.

"Would you mind finishing up the carrots for me?" Oliver asked weakly. "I'm going to hunt down some bandaids…"

"First aid cupboard above the toilet," Connor said with a grin, already on his feet.

_Oh, God, and then there was the toilet incident…_

In all fairness, he had warned Oliver that his plumbing was a little off and that too much toilet paper _would_ clog the drains to high heavens. But, well, when you got to go, you got to go, right?

All awkwardness aside, the water in the toilet had started to rise and no amount of plunging seemed to help. So, face burning red, Oliver had offered to fetch a spanner set and get to work on it.

"Are you sure that's a good idea?" Connor bit his lip. "It's not that I don't trust you or don't think you can do it…"

But Oliver seemed confident. "I'm not a liability suit waiting to happen!"

Connor rolled his eyes. "I'm a law student. You try it and have it not skew your entire world view." He shifted back against the pillows, studying the bright eyes in the doorway. "Look, I'm going to have to call a plumber anyway, but if you think you can help, I'm not about to stop you."

And Oliver had beamed, his grin nearly splitting his cheeks, and he hummed amidst the sound of metal on ceramic. And all was well and good until…

"Uh-oh…"

The words, accompanied by the sudden roar of rushing water, did not make a good combination. "You alright in there?"

"So, I, uh…" Oliver appeared in the bedroom door, face beet red. "I may have just totally flooded your bathroom?"

"Damn it, Oliver!"

_In retrospect, that was probably the night they decided that a. Connor needed a new place and b. they were about ready to live together. After a month or so of searching, they finally found a nice little place –steady, even floors, no stairs to fall down, double-bricked and facing south… But even that wasn't Oliver-proof, as they discovered on the first night there._

"I swear to fucking God, this _is NOT _a desk. I don't care what the directions say, I don't care what it looks like on the box, the instructions were written by the fucking devil or some postmodernist wanting to laugh at the cheap little people who buy from IKEA." Connor grabbed a towel, rubbing it against his face with a little more force than necessary. "I give up, Oliver, I really do."

"Look, it can't be that hard. Straight men do it all the time." Oliver glanced over his shoulder to the centre of the room. "Give me five minutes, let me get these last couple of shelves up, and then I'll help you, alright?"

"How the fuck does yours resemble anything?"

Oliver just laughed. "Practise. Good hands, remember?" He flexed his fingers with a grin.

"Ugh. Screw you."

"Maybe once the desk's done."

Connor groaned, throwing a handful of polystyrene balls at his boyfriend. "I just don't understand why yours is so perfect and I can't even attach a fucking leg."

"It's okay, Connor… Your inability to erect a table in no way reflects on your manliness."

"You're only saying that because of something I _do_ happen to erect."

Oliver stared at him then, eyes twinkling. "There, done! Now, go get some coffee or something and I'll see what I can make of this desk."

So off he went to the kitchen, grabbing the percolator jug and inhaling the caffeine. He was just about to add in creamer to Oliver's cup when he heard…

_**CRASH**_

and the mumbled words… "Connor… A little help…?"

He raced into the lounge-room… and promptly burst into laughter. There lay his boyfriend… pinned down by the legs of the desk. "I don't know if I'm _qualified_ to give you the help you need," he said, pulling the furniture away and helping the older man to his feet.

Oliver just blushed. "Shut up and kiss me. We'll christen the desk another day."

_It had been pretty quiet after that, really. There were little things here and there, bumps and bruises that were a natural part of Oliver's life… but, there were always those adorable moments. Like just last week._

The chords from the piano bounced through the room, bring a smile to Connor's face. He still hadn't gotten over the idea that he had a boyfriend living with him… let alone one that could sing and play piano and wasn't afraid to do so at any moment.

_I'm high above the city.  
>I'm standing on the ledge.<br>The view from here is pretty  
>And I step off the edge.<em>

He hadn't heard that one before, but it sounded perfect to him. And, man, Oliver's voice… He put his folder down on the bed, creeping towards the lounge room.

_And now I'm falling, baby, through the sky, through the sky,  
>I'm falling, baby, through the sky.<br>It's my calling, baby; don't you cry, don't you cry.  
>I'm falling down through the sky.<em>

He edged forward til he was standing right behind the stool… and Oliver was so absorbed in song he didn't realise a thing. "Forget your ass and your cock," Connor whispered into his ear, biting a laugh as the fingers stiffened in surprise, "I could just have sex with your voice for _hours_."

"Connor!"

"Oliver!" He mimicked, running a hand through his hair. "Keep going!"

"You messed me up," the older man pouted, but he shifted his hands, playing a few high broken chords.

… which would have been fine, it was pretty enough, only the next lyrics to come out of his mouth were:

_The snow glows white on the mountain tonight,  
>Not a footprint to be seen…<em>

"Oh, God, no, anything but that! My ears, my poor ears…"

Now it was Oliver's turn to laugh. "You said keep playing…"

"Yeah, but I meant something that _doesn't_ make me want to claw through my skin to my internal organs. Honestly, I'd _teach_ Contracts over that any day."

He switched again, to something else bright and obnoxiously happy.

_Baby, you're a firework…  
>Come on, let your colours burst…<em>

"No!"

_Rudolf, the red-nosed reindeer…_

"Oliver, for the love of God."

_It's Friday, Friday, gotta get down on Friday…_

"Forget what I said about sex. I'm just debating now whether to read from my textbook or beat you over the head with it."

Oliver spun around. "Well, if you don't want to be subjected to carols, cheesy pop or Disney all evening, I'm going to need more sheet music." He stood up and Connor stepped back… but somehow that tiny action caused him to overbalance – or test gravity, whatever the case may be – and he began to fall face-first.

Good thing Connor was there – his arms gripped Oliver's biceps, hoisting him back onto his feet.

"Well… hi there."

"Hi yourself." Connor smirked.

"Let's just… pretend that never happened, alright?"

"No." Satisfied the man was steady, Connor stepped closer, pulling his chest right up to his so he could feel the abs, even through the layers of clothing. "That was adorable." Then he turned his head to the side, mashing his lips into Oliver's.

_So why couldn't this time be like all those others? If he hadn't been at work… if he had have taken the day off, gone out with Oliver… he could have been there, could have stopped all this from happening._

_Though maybe it was just overdue… Too many accidents, too few injuries._

_Connor ran a hand through his fiancée's hair, rubbing deep into his head. Oliver smiled, leaned back – his eyes dark, face pale, exhausted from the pain._

"_So, even though I can't see a break – we can't tell if it's a crack or normal shadows," the doctor pointed at the X-ray, "we're pretty sure it's a scaphoid fracture. Nasty little bugger, they are. Very hard to catch. Nothing's obviously displaced, so there's no point retaking the scan now the cast's set. Just make an appointment for a couple weeks' time and we'll make sure there's no necrosis."_

"_Well, that's a relief… sort of…" He scooped up the broken wrist, carefully kissing each knuckle. "How did you manage to do that, Ol?"_

_The man burnt beet-red. "Uh… I may have decided to take my cousins roller-blading?"_

"_You."_

_Oliver nodded._

"_Roller-blading."_

_Oliver hung his head._

"_I'm impressed. Considering you're a professional gravity-tester, I'm amazed you made it out of the rink alive!"_

"_Shut up…"_

"_Please tell me someone got a video. Or even a photo. The kids are always on their phones these days, right?"_

_Oliver shrugged… then moaned, the reaction delayed slightly by the pain medication._

_Connor squeezed him tightly, pressing a kiss to his forehead. "So all we need to do is bring him back soon?"_

_The doctor nodded. "And keep the cast dry – you don't want it to disintegrate. I have to give the 'don't use your arm' speech, but that's gonna hurt for awhile longer and you're both smart men."_

"_Thank you," Oliver mumbled._

"_Alright – let's get you home." Connor jumped to his feet, helping Oliver do the same, and never letting go of his side… which was all for the best, considering not even three steps towards the door Ol had already overbalanced._

_They both burst into laughter, and Connor swung Oliver's legs from under him, carrying him bridal style the rest of the way to the car._

"_God knows why, but I do love you."_

_Oliver leant closer, rubbing his nose up against Connor's. "You too."_

* * *

><p><strong>Oh, look, Steph's updating again. And, guess what? IT'S ANOTHER TUMBLR PROMPT.<strong>

**God, I just... I'm in love with this image. Clumsy people are just... unf.**

**Like it? Hate it? Want me to test gravity from a tree? Please let me know!**

**Keep smiling! :D**


	3. The Piano Man

_I get up in the evenin'  
>and I ain't got nothing to say<br>I come home in the morning  
>I go to bed feeling the same way<br>I ain't nothing but tired  
>Man, I'm just tired and bored with myself<br>Hey there, baby,  
>I could use just a little help…<em>

The bar was quiet for the night, small and intimate, dark lights with blue on the piano at the front. The room seemed to swell and subside, like waves almost, everyone there rocking to the soft cover. Connor slapped a handful of notes down at the bar and winked, tray of drinks in hand.

"Heineken… Rikorderlig… Long Island… Coffee Martini…"

"Ooh, I love you, Connor." Laurel smiled as she took the martini from his hands. "This place is awesome – where did you find it?"

"Oliver, actually, brought me here the first time." He took a sip of his Old Fashioned, settling back in the armchair.

"Speaking of Oliver," Wes said, cradling the cider – Connor forgot sometimes how young he actually was – "what time are we expecting him? Where is he?"

Connor smirked and nodded towards the stage. "Up there."

"_Dude_." Asher's face was hard to read, especially in the light… some mixture of surprise and… pride? "You're fucking the _piano man_?"

"Sure am." He raised his drink. "To music."

_You sit around getting older  
>There's a joke here somewhere and it's on me<br>I'll shake the world off my shoulders  
>Come on, baby, this laugh's on me<em>

Even surrounded by his workmates, relishing in another win for the team, Connor couldn't reign in his focus. Oliver's voice was still so… something else, somewhere else. By day he worked in IT, programming and fixing and interacting constantly with a screen. Pull him away and he was shy, awkward with words, with eyes that never quite met yours. But stick him on stage with mood lighting and a piano and he could transfer an entire room. His voice almost… drew on his own introspection, captivating everyone out there, tugging them in note by note.

"He's so _natural_," Michaela remarked. "Thought you said he was shy."

"No, look at his eyes." Laurel pulled in all their focus. "They're closed. He's not blocking the audience out but… there's something going on there…"

"I think he likes to feel but not see… It helps him concentrate and perform." _Not to mention how fucking amazing he is at feeling_. Connor shook his head, bringing himself back to the table. "He is pretty shy though. It's… a little adorable."

"A_dor_able?" Michaela laughed. "Awww, look at you."

"You are so _whipped_." Wes punched him on the shoulder… but Connor couldn't care. Perhaps it was the alcohol talking but –

"Yeah, alright, just a little," he admitted.

_You can't start a fire sittin' round crying over a broken heart.  
>This gun's for hire<br>Even if we're just dancing in the dark.  
>Even if we're just dancing in the dark.<em>

"Thank you. It means so much to me that you've all stuck around and listened." Oliver took a swig of water. "My name's Oliver and I play here… fairly regularly so feel free to come again soon and listen if you want. We all appreciate your business here, so thanks once again." With a small bow, amidst a roar of cheers, Oliver dropped down from the stage and, once Connor had stood on the chair waving to get his attention, made his way through the crowd to their table.

"Oh my _God_, Connor, he is _cuter in person than you made out_," Laurel dissolved into a stage whisper they closer he got to the table… and Connor couldn't help but agree. She was the first to move when he got there, reaching an arm out. "Hi, I'm Laurel, and you have an _amazing_ voice."

Oliver immediately blushed. "Thanks…"

"Hey, fangirl." Connor clicked in front of her face, mocking anger, but smiled as he snaked an arm around Oliver's back, hand settling on his hip and pulling him down into his lap. "Mine."

The blush deepened.

"So, this is the famous Oliver." Michaela moved next, shaking his hand. "Connor's told us all about you."

"He failed to mention the singing though," Wes said. "You're an incredible performer. That was… something else…"

"Thank you," Oliver said, looking down at his hands.

"And that's Michaela and Wes," Connor filled him in, nuzzling into his neck.

"I'm Asher." The man offered his hand too, courteous enough, though he was quick to withdraw back into his beer. "How long have you been singing for?"

Oliver bit his lip. "As long as I can remember, really… It's just something I've done, something different from my job…"

"You never wanted to go professional?"

He shook his head at Wes' question. "I like IT, believe it or not. My boss is insane but, well…"

"Everyone hates their boss." Connor smiled, feeling the older man relax a bit in his arms. "Can I buy you a drink?"

Again Oliver shook his head. "I've got a meeting at 8 tomorrow…"

He couldn't help the disappointed groan, which, considering that Oliver's ear was so close to his mouth, couldn't go unnoticed.

"… but I need to talk to Gerry, so I'll go get us some water, alright?"

Oliver stood up – after letting Connor pull him in to a quick kiss. Having him meet his friends, and not having World War III beat the buzz of whiskey any old day. But it was Asher's expression that made the night for him, and the blurted words the instant Oliver was out of earshot –

"Dude. You're fucking _the piano man_."

* * *

><p><strong>Hi everyone!<strong>

**Okay, last one for the night. Only two today. Tumblr prompt asking for Oliver to meet the Keating crew... and essentially I've had Conrad Ricamora's voice floating in my head, and the image of him as a piano player at a bar that Connor frequents, and somehow the two just sort of melded together and bore this.**

**The song lyrics, if anyone is interested, are from _Dancing in the Dark_ by Bruce Springsteen - but the version in my head as I write is the John Legend one (complete mistake, I forgot that was his!) - which you really should look up because it's phenOMenal. As is basically anything that man does. Also on YouTube is Conrad singing Ordinary People (why I mention Legend being a mistake) :-)**

**So. Like it? Hate it? Want me to be smashed by a mallet like part of the mechanism for a piano? Please let me know!**

**Keep smiling! :D**


	4. Meet the Keating Five

They were being proper adults for once, sitting at a fancy table at a fancy restaurant – the sort where the waiter unfolds your napkin for you and they were safe from weird looks – holding hands, arms precariously close to the candle, Oliver's thumb running gently over the back of his hand, when it happened.

Connor's phone buzzed.

"I swear to God, I am going to _bury_ that woman and use all the skills she taught us to defend myself in court," Connor growled – mostly under his breath – but Oliver's mouth quirked up at the other side of the table.

"Annalise?"

Connor sighed, waving a hand at the waiter for their cheque, thoughts of chocolate soufflé melting before his eyes. "I'm sorry."

"No, it's fine, I get it…"

He looked shattered, focusing on his hands as he folded up the napkin. Yet again, Connor felt that guilt, jarring right into his stomach. Oliver deserved better than this. Oliver deserved someone who wasn't battling to take just a few hours to have dinner with someone… On a whim, Connor reached out. "Fuck her."

"What?"

"Fuck her," he repeated, eyes twinkling. "If she's going to interrupt the only time I _have_ where I'm not trying to claw my eyes out… she's going to have to deal with the consequences." He shrugged on his jacket. "I _barely_ have any time with you, and she's not going to take away what I have left."

"Connor…"

"Come on!" Collecting his card and signing the bill, he raced to the other side of the table, pulling out Oliver's chair and helping him with his own coat. "You're always asking about my workmates. Why don't you come meet them?"

"This isn't a good idea…" The programmer sighed, allowing himself to be pulled to the door. Why did these nights always seem to descend into madness?

Connor just laughed, kissing him passionately before they jumped in the car.

* * *

><p>The car-ride itself was mostly silent, the radio cutting through Connor's occasional rambles (<em>"this better be good<em>", "_I want that damn trophy_", "_someone better have died for this_"…). Traffic was low and they were only a few miles out of the city, but still the journey dragged. Oliver sat in the passenger seat fiddling idly with the piping of his jacket… This whole thing was new. Not just the date – though that was its own ballgame – but being taken somewhere? To meet people? And to interrupt them at work? What the hell was Connor thinking?

But then, a blink and they pulled up into a driveway, close to the university.

"… You work at her _house_?"

Connor just shrugged.

"Why am I here, Connor? Am I just part of your rebellion? Are you trying to prove a point with me?"

"No, I…" He reached out, fingertips brushing Oliver's cheek. "I meant it when I said I want more time with you. And if this is how that happens, then…" He sighed. "She won't care. Asher… may or may not be vocal, but he's got to get used to the whole gay thing. It's a JD, gay men aren't exactly a rare breed."

"I… I don't know about this…"

"You'll be fine." Connor smiled, stretching over arm rests to press his lips onto Oliver's, tongue dashing in ever so briefly. And that's all it took to reassure him – like self-assurance or confidence was passing between them instead of just carbon dioxide. They pulled apart gently, Connor's eyes searching deep in his, flicking over his face. "Let's go."

And into the chaos they went.

Almost literally chaos. The door was answered by a pretty woman, gold flashing against her dark skin, a box balanced on her knee. "About time, Connor."

"Well, it's lovely to see you too, Michaela."

The change was subtle, but it was there. This was lawyer-Connor, worker-Connor – no-Achilles-heel-Connor. And his front was built to match hers, two magnets of the same polarity that couldn't help but repel. _That explains a lot_.

"I'm Oliver," he said, holding out a hand, but Michaela clearly was preoccupied. She barely grunted a response, giving him a once-over with her eyes before twisting and marching into the study, box safely back in her hands.

"Don't mind her – she's got more shoved up her ass than me," Connor whispered to him, and Oliver grinned.

"Is this the boy-toy?" Another girl wandered over, a books-worth of stapled sheets tucked under her arm, with her right hand outstretched. "Oliver, right? I'm Laurel."

"Nice to meet you."

"And you. We've heard so much about you."

"Only good things, I hope."

Connor just rolled his eyes, but he could see the tiny specks of pink appear on his cheek.

"Annalise or Bonnie's around here somewhere – they're leading the charge… I'd fill you in but," she sighed deeply, nodding towards the files, "they're making me go through lab reports. I haven't done science in years…" She laughed quietly – must have been her way of relieving stress; better to laugh than cry. "God knows why she can't just employ an actual _scientist_ to check out her defence but, you know, we're here for the impossible, right?"

Connor raised his eyebrows, and they all seemed to understand the acknowledgement. _How much time have these guys actually spent together?_

"So, yeah, these aren't gonna read themselves and I've apparently got to learn all about the effectiveness of certain types of STD protection and other modes of transmission… Wish me luck."

And she was gone and over came a familiar face, even if the voice were questioning. "Oliver?"

"Frank?"

Connor smirked at them. "You two know each other?"

"Yeah, uh… Long story," Oliver mumbled, pressing closer to the body beside him.

Connor seemed to notice the discomfort, arm snaking behind Oliver's back and squeezing him closer. "What's going on, Frank?"

"Oh, you know, doctors going around sleeping with patients, criminal negligence, the usual," the lawyer sighed. "I think he's a family friend – we don't normally get called this late and this urgently unless it's death row or, well, something relevant."

"Some doucheby's gone giving HIV to a few of his patients," a man – probably an ex-footballer, from the look of him, though he clearly held some intelligence – yelled from behind the couch at them.

The two stiffened, but rather than let off a stream of abuse back, Connor just whirled Oliver around, kissing him again – harder, more urgent… more showy. It was strong, passionate, more like the first time they'd met, like he had to convince himself as well as everyone else that this was meant to be, that their lips were made for each other, that the closer they were together the greater wall they could build to keep the world out… or at the very least, to show up some of the ignorance out there.

"God, I didn't mean it that way," the voice continued.

"That's Asher," Connor muttered into his ear as they drew back apart. Oliver could feel his cheeks burning.

"It's, uh… it's n-nice to meet you," he stammered.

"You too," Asher bellowed back before disappearing again into a textbook.

Oliver looked at the face beside him – though Connor seemed more interested watching the movements of the people in the room. "Isn't there another? Where's… Wes?"

"Right here." A dark-skinned boy materialised just like the others had, right before their eyes – which was saying something, considering how incredibly tall he was. "You must be Oliver." He stepped back, palms outstretched – with two stacks of folders balanced on top. "I'd shake your hand but…" He sighed. "Pick a pile, Connor."

"Where's Annalise?"

"She's around somewhere…" Wes looked uncomfortable. "We haven't settled on a strategy yet so don't wait for her, just read through the old case files. If you think of anything… well, you know the deal by now."

Oliver grabbed the pile on his right, holding it up to Connor's stomach (_not with the ulterior motive of feeling those abs, no, not at all_).

"Thanks, Wes."

… _Since when does Connor thank people?!_

They moved into the centre of the living room, standing in front of the couch. "So, everyone, this is Oliver… my boyfriend…"

His world dropped underneath him, though nobody else batted an eyelid. _Did he really just call me that?_

"Oliver… Meet the Keating Five…"

"Well, Four, really…" Oliver smiled. "I know _you_ by now."

"That you do," Connor said, lips twitching.

"So… is there anything I need to know? Or do? Or should I just… I'll stop talking now."

They dropped down onto the white leather. "_You're adorable…_" Connor whispered, picking up a casefile and beginning to read. There was an intense look of concentration playing across his cheekbones, but Oliver could see the smirk buried underneath – the twinkling in his eye.

"But, seriously. Do you guys have rules…?"

"You're in a room full of lawyers," Laurel pointed out.

Meanwhile Michaela rolled her eyes over in the corner. "Just one. Be careful what you say in here."

"The walls have eyes!" Wes laughed, throwing over a handful more files.

"And ears, Mr Gibbons; thank you for that frank analysis." Finally, Annalise Keating herself stood in the doorway… her eyes settling right on the couch where they sat. "Why do we have company?"

"Uh…" Everyone seemed to stop where they were, which was really something considering the amount of paper that had been flying through the air just moments before.

"He's with me," Frank spoke up. "One of my IT guys…"

If Annalise caught sight of their hands – in the rush, Oliver had somehow managed to worm his into Connor's – she did nothing other than say, "Great. Put him to work. Those files aren't going to read themselves, you know."

Connor laughed, handing over a couple of the manilla folders from his pile. "Welcome to madness, Oliver."

* * *

><p><strong>Hey guys! Yet another tumblr prompt - they wanted Oliver to meet the Keating Five. I'm actually sort of loving this... I think my mind naturally bends in so many frustrating directions that it's kinda cool writing these really intense PRESSURE STRESS STRESS interactions with so many people? I dunno.<strong>

**Like it? Hate it? Want me to mistake my fingers for broccoli florets? Please let me know!**

**Keep smiling! :D**


	5. Whiskers

"I live in a tiny little campus shithole, and you're in an apartment building. Where are you going to keep it?"

"But she's so cute, look at her…"

Connor shook his head. "Retrievers need space, Oli. It'd be cruel keeping her locked in an apartment all day. And I am not graduating law school to protect you from neglect charges."

"A chihuahua then?"

"NO!"

His fiancee burst into laughter. "Alright, calm down - you should see your face!"

"Take a picture," Connor muttered, punching the older man gently on the shoulder. "Dickhead."

"You love me." They kept walking through the store, away from the dogs. "Well, what about a cat? They're pretty good inside."

"Yeah, if you like furballs and prissy attitudes and - " He turned aside, sneezing into his hand.

"Bless you!"

Connor sniffed. "And that."

"Allergies?"

He sighed at the heartbroken look on Oliver's face. "Yeah, to cats, I'm sorry."

"No, no, it's fine…"

And so on they trudged, Connor feeling guilty with every step. Lately it seemed that every suggestion Oliver ad got instantly shut down - the moving in together (he couldn't afford a new place in final year law and didn't want the stress yet), the regular date-nights (like _that_ would ever work with Annalise), the meeting with the parents (_seriously? Have you _met_me?_)… now even a pet seemed to be going the wrong way.

And then they hit the bunnies, and Oliver's eyes lit up like the 4th of July.

"Look! We've found something even more sex-crazed than you!"

Connor laughed, watching Oliver pick up one of the tiny animals delicately, preciously. (_He'd make a great father one day_.)

"I mean… I mean, not that that's a bad thing or I'm complaining or anything…"

"Shut up." He put a hand on Oliver's shoulder, kissing his cheek. "You really want a rabbit?"

The man held it up to Connor's face, tickling his nose. "Not allergic?"

"Nope."

"_And_ it's small. I think we've found our pet!"

"You're adorable." He kissed him again, feeling the happiness beam off him. "What are we going to call it?"

"Asher?"

Connor just smacked him on the back of the head. "Wrong answer. Bastard."

* * *

><p><strong>Hey guys!<strong>

**So... I think this is the 4th thing I've written today. WHOA. I've been getting prompts which is AWESOME so feel free to shoot them my way! I've really really missed writing, so it's fun getting back into things.**

**This was from an anon over at my Tumblr - from the meme, they wanted "adopting a pet together" for Coliver. So it's an AU slightly, I think, because there's a lot of gaps missing, but, eh. They're adorable.**

**Like it? Hate it? Want my teeth to all fall out? Please let me know!**

**Keep smiling! :D**


	6. Jealousy

The bar thrummed, people running across to greet friends, lined up for drinks, yelling half-heard conversations that were as equally easy to hear as relevant to his life. The drums beat to his heart, the bass pulsing through his body. Connor sucked in his bottom lip, only half-aware of the excitement around him.

Oliver was standing a few tables over, talking to an attractive guy sitting down, and his smile was almost enough to light the room by itself. He wondered briefly what they were talking about, as his gut clenched.

Oliver put his hand on the shoulder of the man as he burst into laughter.

_Who was he? How did he know Oliver? How could he make him so happy?_

Connor took a swig of whiskey, clenching his fingers around the glass.

_Why can't I be the one making him smile like that?_

This wasn't fair. This was the first night he'd managed to get off in ages, and Oliver was over _there_ with some other _man_. Not with him, not laughing at some stupid pun he'd managed to make, not leaning over his shoulder and pressing up against _his_ chest. He was looking all smart and confident and he probably wasn't even stammering… to a stranger.

Connor sucked in an ice cube, crunching it with a little more force than necessary.

He knew it was ridiculous. Oliver was _his_ boyfriend and after all that begging, after all those conversations, he didn't have doubt in his mind that he was faithful. He just wanted to be there by his side, listening to him laugh and ramble. He wanted to be the one to draw out that joy. He wanted to sidle up to him, wrap an arm around his waist, feel his body in his arms…

But he was too afraid to get up and make a fool of himself… or Oliver. So he sat and watched, black embers glowing in his eyes. He let the music slide through one ear and out the other. He counted the times Oliver slapped the guy on the back. He watched customers squeeze through the lines for the bar. He ordered another drink, watching Oliver throw back his head, eyes sparkling and mouth wide. He chewed on his lip and waited, waited, throwing all sorts of words and ideas and images in his head…

Finally Oliver stepped away and joined him again at the table. Connor smiled, pushing aside a sigh of relief, and he stood up, pulling the older man towards him and kissing him. He could feel Oliver smile in his mouth – but he looked confused as he pulled apart and sat down again.

"What was that for?" he asked.

Connor shrugged. "Who were you talking to?"

Oliver frowned at him, considering something. "Jason? Is that what this is about?"

"You two would make such a cute couple," Connor drawled, trying to dial down his anger.

Oliver blinked before rolling his eyes with a snort. "That's my _cousin_. I'm pretty sure there's laws about that here – this isn't Ohio."

"Uh…" Connor paled. "That's… your… you mean…"

"Oh my God, I've finally managed to make you silent." Oliver laughed.

Connor blushed. "Okay, okay, I was wrong…"

"You're jealous," Oliver teased, setting his glass on the bar and stepping closer. "That's sort of adorable."

"Shut up!"

Oliver bent over, cupping his cheek, fingers dragging down his face. "You _are_ adorable, Connor, whether you believe it or not."

Connor raised his eyebrows, leaning into the touch. "Is this how you feel when you ramble?"

Oliver laughed, eyes crinkling. "Yes. Yes, indeed, you adorable creature."

"Stop calling me that! Just… shut up and kiss me," Connor pleaded, closing his eyes.

"No. It's way more fun watching you freak out," Oliver teased, before finally brushing his lips against Connor's.

* * *

><p><strong>Hey everyone!<strong>

**So essentially, if you haven't picked that or you're just joining me now (and welcome! I'm Steph, the weirdo behind the keystrokes - nice to meet you!), I'm combining my Coliver shots into one story to make it easier. Collections (like the one I want to keep working on with them and kids) and separate stories (like the one I'm writing now with a full case, if I can get my act together!) will have their own slot, and this will be the random ficlets that I write :-)**

**This was another Tumblr prompt - that's where I get most of my prompts from, tbh, so feel free to come talk to me at any time! My anon requested Oliver talking to someone and Connor getting jealous because someone else shouldn't be able to make him laugh that easily... I think the family thing was part of the request too, as was flustered Connor!**

**Hope you enjoyed it!**

**Like it? Hate it? Want me to turn into a goldfish (the cracker, not the live one) and be dumped into a bowl of water by a two-year-old? Please let me know!**

**Keep smiling! :D**


	7. Meet the Hamptons

He's being ridiculous.

He's a lawyer, for crying out loud. Or, at the very least, he will be in a few months' time. It's not like he's any stranger to pain and torment – not after the years of law school, most of which were spent working for Annalise. He's strong, charming, able to drive any point home with very few words and able to argue the hind legs off an elephant and then convince anyone it was a mythological creature in front of them and not just a tortured endangered species.

It's not like he's freaking out over their relationship either. He's met Oliver's friends and Oliver has met all of his. They've babysat cousins and nephews and the occasional chihuahua together. Other than the potential of dragging out a certain silver band… he's not sure their relationship can progress further. Oliver loves him, he loves Oliver, and he can't ask for anything more.

But this has him in knots.

And Oliver is remarkably calm.

His hand reaches out, lifting off the steering wheel, and rests on his, Oliver's thumb stroking circles against his palm. Oliver smiles, looking pensive, but his eyes only flicker across to his briefly before fixing themselves on the road. "Well, this is a first," he says.

"What?" Connor asks, suddenly self-conscious. "Did you actually think I was some sort of god? Or just an emotionless psychopath?"

"Both, obviously," Oliver chuckles. "No, you being nervous is adorable… I meant, the family thing is… is a first…"

Connor frowns at that, stretching the hand under Oliver's so he can play with his fingers. "… They do know you're gay, right?"

"Well… yes, in theory." Oliver shakes his head, like he's trying to sort through his thoughts, sort through what he can and can't and should and shouldn't say. "They've never actually met a _boy_ before though. Not like that."

"Don't tell me that!"

Connor's pitch rises, and he can see Oliver's picked up on that – he's biting back a laugh, the way he curls in his bottom lip a fraction and his cheeks bunch together. In any other circumstance he'd play up to it, pinching his chin and using babytalk, but here he's just humiliated. At least Oliver's had enough practise now that he can simply swallow it away, and instead of laughing he squeezes Connor's hand one last time before turning the car onto a long dirt driveway. "Relax. If I didn't think you were ready – _we_ were ready – I wouldn't have organised this." They pull around a corner and Oliver parks the car neatly in front of the house before turning and placing a gentle kiss on his lips. "Besides – I'm the one who should be nervous. My mother is going to…"

His words are lost as a squeak of excitement comes from outside the car, and Connor jumps as a short woman taps on the windscreen… "_Dodong_ Oliver!"

Oliver rolls his eyes. "Speak of the devil," he mutters, opening the door slowly. "Hi, Mom," he smiles, kissing her cheek before letting her pull him into a huge hug. Connor waits by the car door, but he can't keep the grin off his face – he knows it's been too long since Oliver last saw his family, and he doesn't like to admit it but it's touching seeing just how much love his man has for his mother. Though soon enough, he's rubbed cheeks with her too and stands a little awkwardly, towering over this tiny woman as she wraps her arms around him.

"It's so lovely to finally meet you, Connor," she says as she lets him go, remarkably calmer than before. "Our Oliver has told us so much about you…"

"Really?" He raises an eyebrow, and Oliver blushes.

"Now, come in, come in!" She waves her hands, shooing them inside. "We've been so excited to finally have you over! Everyone can't wait to meet you, _bait naman_."

Connor is very taken aback by her response… Families aren't usually this welcoming to him. Then again, between his serious bad-boy attitude at school and the fact that not all families are happy to discover their son has a boyfriend, it's no surprise he's had some bad experiences… and this isn't even getting into the wreck of his own family. Oliver's mom seems overly sweet… but he can't help the feeling that it's all going to fall on its face one way or the other. He leans in close to Oliver, resting his chin on Oliver's shoulder. "Is your father going to be out the back with a shotgun waiting for me?"

Oliver bursts into laughter. "My family is… quite left-wing," he explains, spinning around to grab Connor's face. "Just relax!"

"Easier said than done," he mutters, fiddling with his pantleg, but he nuzzles into the fingers on his jaw, letting them drag down his face as he spins again to walk through the entrance and into the kitchen.

The smell is incredible, tendrils of garlic and coconut and ginger wafting from every inch, and there's saucepans simmering away on the stove, with bowls of rice and salad on the benchtop. Mrs Hampton stops them by the bench, pulling the larger bowls towards her and unpacking some smaller ones. Connor steps up in front of her, though he still can't quite make his eyes meet hers.

"Can I do anything to help?"

"_Mabait na manugang_." She smiles. "Yes. You can take my son and go sit at the table."

"C'mon," Oliver whispers, his cheeks burnt red. He wraps an arm around Connor's waist, fingers pressing into his hip, drawing him forward, into the next room. "She really likes you," he explains once they're out of earshot. "Normally the Tagalog only comes out for family."

"So, no pressure then," Connor sighs, taking a place at the table around the corner from Oliver, their knees falling together. "What did she say?"

"She… It means you're a sweet son-in-law…"

Connor draws in a breath… but then smiles, his hand finding Oliver's and sliding underneath, letting the fingers curl over his. "Well, it's legal in PA now…"

Oliver's eyebrows pinch together and he shoots Connor a quick look. "Do you mean…?"

Connor shrugs. "We'll talk later."

He takes comfort in the thought. He's still nearly pissing himself – he knows his leg is bouncing, making the entire table shake – but he can do this. No matter what. For Oliver. All his life he's always been working towards something – becoming the perfect son, getting into law, topping the class, whatever – there's always been some goal in sight to motivate him. And if this time it's actual commitment, actual marriage… then maybe, just maybe, he can do this.

The idea actually calms him. It's ridiculous.

Oliver reaches out for Connor's neck, fingers playing through the bottom of his hair before sliding down, starting to work into his muscles. "God, you're so tense… Relax…"

Connor can only shake his head.

"Oliver, Connor…" He jumps at Mrs Hampton's voice as it comes floating through the air. "What can I get you to drink?"

"We're fine, Mom," Oliver says back with a wry grin – it's almost practised. "Thanks."

"No, you need something, or else your kidneys will start screaming, as your father might say. And you can't have rice without a drink."

"Ugh. Fine." Oliver looks amused. "Do we have tea then?"

"Yes, but you'll have to come make it yourself, _dodong_. I'm not your servant."

Oliver rolls his eyes as he stands. "See what I have to put up with? Welcome to the world of Pinoy parenting." He bends down, kissing Connor's forehead. "I'll be right back," he whispers in his ear… but then he's gone.

Connor's leg resumes its jumping.

He can do this. Oliver's mother is so sweet and tiny and, alright, possibly a little dangerous if the occasion calls for it – he vaguely remembers a story Oliver told him where the tiny little woman picked him up from a bus stop one night brandishing a baseball bat – but it's clear that she really cares for her son… and really doesn't seem to have a problem with Connor's gender. Obviously Oliver's cousins are fine – they've been almost permanent residents before, looking after their kids. But what about his father…? There's no way they can all be this perfect. Nothing is this perfect.

Suddenly a hand slaps down on his shoulder. Connor nearly jumps out of his skin.

"Whoa, boy! Easy!" The voice breaks into deep laughter – it's clear where Oliver gets his baritone – and Connor glances left to see a tall man with green eyes and salt-and-pepper hair. "Sorry, kiddo – I didn't mean to scare you that badly."

"It's n-nice to meet you, sir." And of course he fucking stutters. Connor stares down into his lap, hands clenched.

"Please, call me Alan," Oliver's father says, a bit quieter now, warmer. "Sir makes me feel too old."

"You _are_ old," Oliver yells from the kitchen.

"Still as rude as ever." Alan shakes his head. "What happened to respect for elders, Connor?"

"I don't… I don't know, sir," he says, bouncing his hands in his lap. He needs Oliver there, needs his hand on his shoulder to calm him. Alan doesn't mean any harm, he's just doing what fathers do, but, _damn_, that question was so triggering and… he takes a deep breath. Nothing was meant by that question. No accusation. Just teasing Oliver. Right?

Oliver's father seems to pick up on the panic and he squats down to Connor's eye-level. "You okay, kid? What's going on?"

Connor shakes his head. "My father," he says, the words tumbling out of his mouth. "He had a thing about respect… If I didn't…" His voice shakes, and he stops. He doesn't need to get into that now. Not here. Not anywhere.

"Well… we're not like that here," the man sidesteps, though it's somewhat reassuring. "My name's Alan. And fuck respect. You can call me whatever you damn-well want. Just not _sir_."

He almost bursts into hysterical laughter – it's strange enough hearing an older man swear, but when that man somehow was responsible for Oliver? Connor shakes his head. Where on earth did Oliver get his reservedness from?

"Stop _scaring_ him, Dad!" There's the tinkling of porcelain as Oliver hurries back into the dining room, setting down the cups of tea. He draws in a deep breath, resting his head against Oliver's stomach as Oliver stands behind his chair.

"I didn't mean to, Oliver, I honestly swear that. He's jumpy, this one, isn't he, poor bugger."

"He's almost a lawyer – he's not usually this jumpy." Oliver massages his shoulders, and Connor feels his breathing slow. "Are you alright, Con?"

He nods, feeling himself blush.

"Here, have some tea," Oliver says, dragging a chair with one foot. He sits down next to Connor, keeping a hand on his back so he can rub it gently.

"I know we're all a bit nutty," Alan grins as he sits opposite them, "but we're mostly harmless, honestly. We won't bite unless you, you know, ask us to."

"Dad!"

But Connor smiles, watching Oliver's face turn red this time.

"Alan – do us all a favour and be quiet for once, won't you?" Oliver's mother bustles in with bowls of steaming lunch. "I'm sure the last thing Connor needs is to be thinking about you biting any part of his anatomy – that's what Oliver is for, right?"

"_Mom!_"

Connor knows he should be shocked at the words streaming from _both_ parents' mouths – but he can't help but snort, shaking his head.

"God, the two of you. Can we try and _not_ scar my boyfriend for life? Please?" Oliver buries his face in his free hand. "Discussions of anyone's sex life are officially _off_ the table. I don't care whose."

"So you don't want to hear about the time Olli was conceived then?"

"_Alan_!"

"Stop. Just… please stop…"

Connor laughs. If only every family dinner went this way…

"Well," Alan pulls his bowl towards him, playing with his spoon. "Has anyone told you about the time Oliver was five and we went to feed the ducks? He was so excited…"

Connor smiles, finally relaxing into his chair as they proceed to do everything possible to embarrass Oliver. He's still not too sure of the concept of families – that will take time, much longer than one lunch – but he can do this. He can see now why Oliver's always been so desperate to share this with him. And maybe, just maybe – he might be willing to start one of his own.

But he needs to hear just _how_ Oliver managed to get them kicked out of the Empire State Building when he was 8 first.

* * *

><p><strong>... I don't know <em>where<em> the present tense is coming from, but it's spewing out of me at the moment!**

**Hey, everyone! So... What's new?**

**Me, I just moved house. Yesterday. And I performed with my choir, which was pretty awesome. And now I'm at work at it's 3 in the morning and all I have to do is mop the floors, check the clients hourly, and put their lunchboxes in their bags. Hmmmm. **

**So this was from an anon Tumblr prompt, who wanted Connor meeting Oliver's family, with Connor's daddy issues meaning he gets scared instead of being charming, and they wanted Connor to get the love he deserves. So I hope I managed that!**

**Like it? Hate it? Want me to be phagocytosed by a detergent bubble? Please let me know!**

**Keep smiling! :D**


End file.
